


Suffocating for you

by selannes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Choking, Collars, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Hair-pulling, Hand Feeding, Is that a tag??, M/M, Top Drop, in one of the chapters there is:, its the opposite of subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selannes/pseuds/selannes
Summary: Shea and Ryan meet at the World Juniors in 2005 and they finish in Nashville in 2012.A lot happens in between.





	1. 2nd January 2005

**Author's Note:**

> In commiseration of Weber being out for half of next season (Habs are #LosingForHughes) have what is basically just an excuse for me to write choking kink. 
> 
> A lot of the tags apply to later chapters and I will warn before hand which chapter the dubious consent applies to. Message me if you want more info about that.
> 
> This will be 6 chapters, it's all written but if you comment I'm way more likely to get it put up faster (wink wink)

The US has just been knocked out of Gold and Silver medal contention and Ryan is sitting alone in a dirty bar in North Dakota, getting blackout drunk. It’s not a good look but sometimes enough is enough. It’s been a terrible Juniors for team USA, but the past few weeks have been just awful for Ryan. His partner for the past two years broke up with him – over the phone no less - just before a blowout loss of 2-7 to Russia, because apparently Ryan was “emotionally unavailable” and “lazy in bed”, or something. Ryan frowns down at his bottle of beer, hates that he feels disappointed and pathetic just because some asshole that he saw himself having a future with didn’t feel the same.

Not for the first time Ryan wishes Zach was here; in North Dakota, in this bar, back at the hotel – just here. One of Zach’s best qualities, in Ryan’s opinion, was his ability to get Ryan out of his own head. Ryan wished Zach was here to watch shitty hotel TV and cuddle with him and complain about the game.

The door to the bar opens and a gaggle of excited Canadians rush in, eager to get out of the cold. Evidently coming of their success against the Czech Republic and wanting to chase that high, they’d also come to this dusty bar. Ryan contemplated moving to sit in the corner, where he could easily hide in the shadows from any unwanted attention, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the effort and continued to nurse his beer.

Ryan was pretty sure he’d walked past a nightclub on his way here – maybe after this beer he could go there and see if there was anyone with the, uh, correct _skill set_ to make this a good night after all.  Ryan hadn’t picked up in years but he’s sure he can fumble his way through some flirting.

Someone clears their throat behind him and Ryan looked over his shoulder, lazily, at Shea Weber who was standing there with his hands in his pockets and a grimace on his face. “Is this seat taken?”

Ryan looked at the rest of the bar and raised an eyebrow at the abundance of empty seats Weber could have sat at, but in the end he looked back at his beer with a mumbled, “Go ahead.”

Ryan heard the leather of the seat creak as Weber sat down. Ryan looked, out of the corner of his eye, at Weber who was in that weird stage of being on the precipice of teenager and adult. Hell, Ryan was still in that phase himself – his partner, or, well ex-partner now, had always liked to call him baby and comment on his slight figure, which he had secretly enjoyed but as an aspiring hockey player had felt kind of insulting. Weber, though, had a young face with a hint of serious intentions edging in.

“Crazy competition, huh?” Weber ran a hand through his hair as he laughed awkwardly. “International teams are no joke.”

“Is this your first year at World?” Ryan asked politely, hating that he was sat here partaking in small talk. Hadn’t he and Shea already done this kind of small talk before, at their draft? Although, that had been much worse – all those cameras, watching, eagerly waiting to see if they might slip up.

“Yeah,” Weber smiled at Ryan. “This is your third time, right?”

Ryan was shocked, “Yeah, it is.” He hadn’t expected Weber to know that off the top of his head, but well, they were going to be on the same NHL team (knock on wood) so maybe it wasn’t so strange for Weber to know these things. Ryan was probably blowing it out of proportion and Weber knew these things for all his prospective teammates. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel like you fit in soon enough.” Ryan gave Weber a smile – a real one, soft at the corners of his eyes and mouth – and stood up from the stool as he downed the last dregs of his beer. “Well, I should be going.” After all, Ryan had better get to the nightclub soon, if he wanted to find someone who wanted to exchange handjobs in an alleyway.

“You’re leaving already?” Weber sounded disappointed, all sad eyes and drooping mouth. “Are you going back to the hotel – can I walk you back?” Weber stood up as well and all of a sudden Ryan was aware of the fact that Weber was made of some very nice proportions – tall and broad in the shoulders – very pleasing to look at.

“Actually, I had been planning to go to the local club,” Weber’s shoulders slumped. “But… I could always be persuaded to do otherwise.” Ryan looked up at Weber from under his eyelashes and he bit his lip teasingly.

Weber’s eyes lit up, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. “Please,” Weber grabbed Ryan’s wrist, “I’ll make it worth your while.” Weber took a step closer, crowding Ryan against the bar, his eyes glued to where Ryan’s bottom lip was caught in between his teeth, mesmerised.

Weber smile must have been contagious because Ryan felt one threaten to chase across his face when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the group that Weber had entered with. The entire table was looking at the two of them and Ryan was pretty sure he saw Ryan Getzlaf making crude gestures. Ryan’s heart stopped and his face smoothed over, no teasing eyes or cheeky smile, as he stepped away from Weber, removing his wrist from his loose grip. Weber deflated, obviously anticipating a swift rejection, when Ryan said, “Where are you staying?”

Weber looked shocked and slightly confused, because Ryan still had no discernible emotion on his face and he was a full two feet away from Weber still, but he shrugged it off and motioned for Ryan to follow him. As they left a couple Weber’s teammates from the table made some noise, wolf whistling and hooting, but Weber and Ryan ignored them as they exited the bar into the cool night.

 

* * *

 

It turns out they’re staying at different hotels, which Ryan is glad for – less chance of running into someone he knows on the US team. Ryan stands by the door as Weber fumbles with the door key, cursing under his breath, only using one hand because with the other he’s tugging his shirt down to hide his erection showing through his shorts. They maybe got a little bit too frisky in the elevator, Ryan thinks as he hides his smile behind his hand.

“Ah-ha!” Weber unlocks the door with a cheer. He turns to grin at Ryan who has taken a step towards him and is pushing him into the room. The door snicks shut behind them quietly, cutting off the light from the hallway, submerging the two of them in darkness.

Ryan fists his hands in Weber’s shirt and pulls him down so that the two of them can kiss. Weber makes a shocked noise but he soon gets with the program, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as his hands migrate south to grab a hold of Ryan’s hips. Ryan moans into the kiss, places his hands over Weber’s and squeezes, indicating to him that he should grip harder.

“Is this ok?” Weber pulls away to whisper against Ryan’s lips and Ryan is confused – is it not obvious how ok with this Ryan is?

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” Ryan nuzzles against Weber’s cheeks, “I like to be roughed around a bit.” Under Ryan’s lips he can feel Weber’s cheeks flare with heat.

“Okay,” Weber’s voice cracks and Ryan can’t help his smile, laughs a little.

The two of them kiss some more, Weber slowly getting more confident, getting the hang of it, until he slides one of his hands into Ryan’s hair and he _pulls_. “Ah!” Ryan gasps. Shocks of electricity zap up and down Ryan’s spine and he arches his body into Weber’s, tilting his head into the harsh tugs. This is way better than quick handjobs in a damp alleyway, Ryan thinks to himself.

Ryan puts his hand over Weber’s where it’s tangled in his hair, making sure it stays there, as he slides to his knees on the floor and looks up at Weber. Ryan loves this – looking up at his partner when he’s kneeling at their feet. He feels so powerful, seeing their mouths agape and their eyes wide.

“Is this ok?” Ryan teases as he tugs down Weber’s shorts and underwear.

“It’s the best,” Weber sounds star-struck.

“Good,” Ryan licks his lips, “because I’ve been wanting to this all night.” Ryan slides his hand around Weber’s dick, his palm dragging across his foreskin agonisingly slowly. Weber’s hips buck into Ryan’s grip causing Ryan to smirk at his eagerness. Ryan looks into Weber’s dark eyes as he pumps his length a couple of times.

“Suter…” Weber rasped, his fingers tugging in Ryan’s hair and urging his head towards his dick.

Ryan opens wide, letting Weber feed him his dick inch by inch until it hits the back of his throat. Both of Weber’s hands are on Ryan’s head, his big hands keeping Ryan’s head still until Weber wants Ryan to move. Ryan blinked up at Weber, his eyes already watering. Ryan and Weber look at each other, Weber with flushed cheeks and a look of awe. Normally, by now, whoever Ryan was doing this with would have already have started to fuck Ryan face but Weber didn’t even seem to be working up towards that. Weber seemed content to just soak in the image of Ryan with Weber’s dick halfway down his throat. Ryan wants more though, so he places his hands on the back of weber’s thighs and tugs him forward, doing his best to wordlessly indicate to Weber what he wants.

“You – uh, you want me to…” Weber trailed off as Ryan eagerly nods his head – or, well, as eagerly as he can with his mouth full of dick.

Weber begins to, finally, thrust in and out of Ryan’s mouth in tiny, light thrusts of his hips. When Ryan proves that he could take it Weber picks up the pace, one hand at the space between Ryan’s shoulder and neck, the other fisted tightly in Ryan’s hair as he uses his grip to move Ryan’s head along his length. “Ah, fuck,” Weber pants, “Your mouth is so fucking good, Suter.” Weber’s hips give a hard thrust and Ryan audibly choked, tears falling down his cheeks. Weber’s hand on his shoulder drifts up and rested on Ryan’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the stray tears. “I love seeing you cry,” Weber whispered, almost as if to himself. Ryan groaned and shifted on his knees, his erection throbbing between his thighs.

Weber nudges at his bulge with his foot, smirking when Ryan whined high in his throat at the contact. “Hmm,” Weber tugs Ryan’s head down so his nose was buried in Weber’s pubic hair, his dick buried in Ryan’s throat. “Do you want to come, Suter?” Weber asks softly.

Ryan digs his nails into the meat of Weber’s thighs, grunting up at Weber around his dick.

“Make me come and then we’ll see about getting you some relief,” Weber says it so flippantly, like it was obvious how unimportant it was if Ryan comes compared to Weber’s own release, and Ryan’s face burns as he feels his dick leak precome and stain his jeans.

Ryan closes his eyes and just lets himself fucking take whatever Weber is going to give to him. His jaw aches something fierce and he knows his voice is going to be ragged and raspy for a while but he pushes all of that out of his mind and he just opens up his mouth and throat, ready to receive Weber’s come.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Weber’s grip on Ryan’s face tightens as he hunches over Ryan’s kneeling figure and he comes, minutely thrusting into Ryan’s face as he sends jets of come down Ryan’s throat.

Ryan swallows as much of it as he can but, when Weber takes his dick out of Ryan’s mouth, some come dribbles out of his mouth. Using his thumb, Weber pushes the trail of come back into Ryan’s mouth, leaving his thumb in Ryan’s mouth for him to suck on it.

“Are you ready to come?” Weber asks Ryan, his other hand pushing Ryan’s damp locks of hair away from his forehead.

Ryan, sitting on his heels, nods up at Weber, still sucking on his thumb.

Weber places his right foot in between Ryan’s spread thighs and he nods down at him, “Go ahead then.” Ryan was confused for a second before his brain finally caught on and he flushes bright red. He lifts himself up from sitting to kneeling again and, holding onto Weber’s hips for balance, begins to grind against Weber’s leg like a dog. As he dry humps his leg, still fully clothed, Weber runs a soothing hand over his head, making soothing noises. The friction, combined with the humiliation of not even getting a helping hand, pushes Ryan over the edge and he bites Weber’s thumb as he comes in his pants, hot and messy.

When Ryan comes back to himself he’s still sucking on Weber’s thumb, tasting blood from where he must have bitten him so hard he broke skin, and Weber is crouched next to him and running his other hand along Ryan’s back where he’d slipped his hand under his shirt.

“Hey,” Weber’s voice is gentle, “You okay?”

Ryan took his mouth off of Weber’s thumb and he blinked lazily at Weber. “If you ask me if I’m okay one more time I’m going to scream.” Ryan’s voice was completely wrecked – everyone was going to know what he’d been up to as soon as he opened his mouth.

Weber rubbed at the back of his neck, laughing nervously. “Sorry… I guess I just wanted to make sure.”

“It’s fine, it’s just – I came in my pants, what more proof do you need that I liked it?”

Weber hummed, “That is pretty good proof.” Weber’s hand was still drifting up and down Ryan’s back, “Did you… Did you like it enough for a repeat?” Weber’s voice went high with hope.

“You’re ready to go again?” Ryan raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, no,” Weber blushes, “Not tonight, but, maybe, tomorrow?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? We both have games the next day, after all.”

“Ah,” Weber looks to the side, “You’re right, I’d forgotten about that…”

Ryan bites his lip, looks at Shea Weber who is only a year younger than Ryan but just made him come his brains out but - who he was almost 100% certain he had just given him his first kiss - if he was reading all the signs right – and he decided to throw him a bone. And, well, Weber had made him come really hard, without even touching him, so maybe he was throwing both of them a bone.

“Maybe we can meet up in Nashville,” Ryan suggests, “Grab a coffee and see where the wind takes us.”

“Yeah,” Weber breathes, “yeah, that sounds – that sounds great.” Weber’s face split into a blinding smile, his perfect teeth glinting in the low lights and Ryan wondered if maybe they could get away with meeting up sooner.


	2. 19th November 2006

It’s Shea’s second year in the big leagues – he got called up to spend some time with the Preds last season - but this is his first year as a starter. It feels great, fucking fantastic. He’s over the moon and the other guys tease him for constantly smiling like a fool. Every day he wakes up with a shock, realising he gets to practice with _fucking Paul Kariya_ and every night he goes to bed, having played against actual NHL stars. Life is pretty fucking great for Shea.

The only thing that would make it better is if Zach Parise could drop off the face of the earth.

Shea is a goddamn NHL player and he’s changed his mind, he hates everything, his life fucking sucks because Ryan just left in the middle of a team celebration to go fuck Zach Parise.

“Cheer up, kid.” Kimmo, this year’s Captain of the Predators, knocks his shoulder against Shea as he sits down next to him and slides him another drink, “We won, remember?”

“Did we?” Shea mutters and downs half of his beer.

Kimmo bursts into laughter, repeatedly smacking his hand onto the table. “Ah, to be young again.” He sighs wistfully.

“Leave the rookie alone, Kimmo.” Kariya sits opposite them at the table with a smirk.

“Paul,” Kimmo gasps, “There you are! Tell me,” Kimmo flings an arm around Shea’s neck and pulls him in for a squeeze, which Shea has no choice but to accept. “Where we ever so dramatic when we were their age?”

“I’m not-” Shea squirms out from under Kimmo’s heavy arm, “I’m not being dramatic.” Shea fiddles with the label on his beer, “I just think it’s… unprofessional of Ryan to leave in the middle of a team event to - to hang out with the enemy.” Shea is well aware he’s pouting but he doesn’t care.

Kimmo and Paul look at each other from across the table for a long moment before the two of them erupt into laughter. Shea flushes, embarrassed, and he stands up to leave, go hang out with Hartsy (who is even more likely to laugh at him but whatever) when Kimmo pulls him back down with a, “Wait, wait.”

“First of all,” Paul chuckles, “they’re not our enemies. So jot that down.” Shea grumbles but he nods him head, reckons he was a bit over the top with the way he phrased that, anyway.

“Second of all,” Kimmo has stopped laughing, “Ryan is allowed to leave whenever he wants. No one - not me as Captain or you, as his _whatever_ ,” Kimmo puts stress on the word and Shea feels his heart race, “can stop him from seeing his friends.” Shea looks at Kimmo and he looks serious, as serious as Shea has ever seen him.

Shea nods, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that… I just…” Shea trails off, unsure.

Kimmo is silent, staring Shea down, before he breaks into a smile. “It’s okay Shea; you’re just two kids, trying to figure things out. You’ll get there – I promise,” Kimmo stands up, “Now let’s celebrate that shootout win properly – with shots!” Kimmo rallies the rest of the team and they all bombard the bartender, who looks frazzled at the demand for shots from a bunch of giggly, excitable hockey players. “A shot for every shot!” Kimmo yells.

Shea and Paul have stayed behind at the table, Paul watching Kimmo with a smile. He stands up with a groan, stretching out his back, “I’m getting too old to be staying out all night.” Paul smiles down at Shea, “Do you want to join them?” Paul indicates over at the rest of the team who are crowding around the bar.

Shea shakes his head, “I think I’ve had enough tonight.”

Paul nods, “Let’s walk back to the hotel then.” Shea feels his eyes go wide, wonders if he’s ever going to get over his hero worship, and scrambles up from the table to join Paul.

“Shea,” Paul starts as they walk away from the bar. “Do you remember, last year, the advice I gave you?”

Shea had been called up from the Milwaukee Admirals to play with the Preds and, after a couple of days, Ryan had approached him, and proposed that they ‘hang out’ together – completely casual, just to make themselves a better pair on the ice.  Shea had been so fucking for it, had been secretly hoping that, now that he was called up, he and Ryan could maybe see each other on and off the ice. The taste Shea had gotten of Ryan at Worlds had been electric – life changing – and he had jacked off to the memory of making Ryan come completely undone too many times to count over the past year.

So they had made an arrangement – the night after a game they would meet, barring injuries, and they would have sex. At first they hadn’t done anything too crazy – blow jobs, hand jobs, some really great anal play. Shea remembers after a _really_ good game Ryan had asked him to fit his entire hand inside. It was great, and there was plenty of aftercare - which Shea personally found to be the best part. He could wreck Ryan all night long, turn him inside out and rearrange all his parts, and at the end of the night he could clean Ryan up and stroke his hair, humming soothingly until he could function again. Even when they lost games, got shutout, Shea didn’t feel so bad knowing that in a couple of hours he would be in bed with Ryan, the two of them sweaty and breathless, talking about the future.

It must have been obvious something was going on between them because Paul had pulled the two of them aside after practice to make sure they knew what they were doing. “You’re sure about this?” Paul had asked with a frown, “Being with a teammate can become real messy _real_ fast.” Ryan had been quick to reassure Paul, telling him that it wasn’t anything serious, just a way to help them play better. “Alright,” Paul had let them be, but he had still looked worried. “The second,” he continued, “it starts to make you play worse you have to stop.” Paul had looked pained, his eyes hard and his body tense. “You have to stop.” Shea and Ryan had quickly agreed and then run off to get changed. They’d never talked about it again, the three of them, although Shea had found himself carefully listening out for when he heard people gossiping about Paul, wondering what had happened in his past to him to make him so adamant that they not let it interfere with hockey.

“I remember,” Shea tells Paul as they stop at a crossing.

“So,” Paul turns to him, “has it happened yet?” _Yet_ , as if it was inevitable that their arrangement would go sour.

“No, it’s not happened. We’re good, I promise.”

Paul doesn’t look like he believes him, “This is what you call casual? You fuming when Ryan sees an old friend – someone he’s known before he even met you _– that’s_ casual to you?”

Shea bristles, “Its fine, we’re fine, it hasn’t affected our hockey. Wasn’t that your only concern – that it didn’t make us shit on the ice? Well, we’re good then.” Shea and Ryan both have the makings of a top D-pair, and Paul knows it.

“Shea,” Paul sighs. “That’s not why I’m concerned. You’re two young kids - in the big leagues - trying to prove to the world that you’re something to be considered. That’s all hard enough as it is,” Paul looks to the night sky. “Then you add in the complication that is a relationship – caring for each other, trusting each other – it’s a lot. I’m just worried the two of you are in over your heads.”

Shea turns to look at Paul, “You’ve experienced this.” It wasn’t a question.

“A teammate and I…” Paul trails off. “Until he got traded,” Paul finishes.

“Oh,” Shea feels his stomach drop at that.

“This type of thing can get ugly and complicated, Shea. Are you prepared for if it all goes wrong and one of you can’t do this anymore?” Paul shakes his head, “Are you ready for it to ruin your friendship?”

“That won’t happen,” Shea shakes his head, “We won’t get split up, we won’t get traded.”

Paul gives Shea a pitying look, “Okay.”

“We won’t.” Shea feels like shouting - just because it fucking sucked for Paul doesn’t mean it’ll suck for him and Ryan.

“Okay,” Paul repeats, and they don’t exchange any more words on the way back to the hotel.

 

When Shea gets to his room, his head spinning from his talk with Paul, Ryan is, shockingly, waiting there for him with a little smile.

“Ryan!” Shea gasps, “What are you doing here – I thought you were with Parise.”

“We hung out for a bit before we parted ways,” Ryan raps his knuckles against Shea’s door, “Can I come in?”

“Oh- uh, sure,” Shea fumbles for his card key, flinging the door open and pulls Ryan in with him.

“Hey,” Ryan murmurs as he looks up at Shea.

“Hey,” Shea sighs into Ryan’s mouth as they kiss, open mouthed and so hot Shea feels like his tongue is melting. Shea grips the back of Ryan’s neck firmly, controlling the kiss. Ryan moans into the kiss, desperate for more, opening his mouth wider for Shea.

When they pull away Shea keeps his hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and the two of them pant into each other’s mouths, catching their breath, and looking at each other through lowered lids.

“Earlier, when I was watching you play… Shea, you took my breath away.”

Shea feels like he’s the one who’s struggling to breathe, hearing Ryan praise him this way with a heated look in his eyes.

“I want you to take my breath away, Shea.” Ryan tells him.

Shea is confused, “What…”

Ryan takes both of Shea’s hands and he places them, carefully, on his neck until Shea’s hands are spanning the width of Ryan’s neck. When Ryan speaks Shea can feel is vibrate across his palms, “I want you to take my breath away,” Ryan repeats and Shea gets it, oh he gets it.

Shea squeezes Ryan’s throat lightly, hesitant, and Ryan’s breath audibly hitches. Ryan’s hands are still on top of Shea’s and he presses down on them, trying to show that he wants more, tighter, less air. Shea ups the pressure, watches Ryan’s eyes roll back and his face get steadily redder. Shea lets off, his grip loosening and allowing Ryan to draw air back in. Ryan is always so desperate, Shea thinks with wonder. Desperate for air, desperate for dick, desperate for the world.

Shea pushes Ryan up against a wall, slides his thigh in between Ryan’s and he grinds against him, both of their dicks hard. “You’re so fucked up, Ryan. Jesus, look at you, writhing on my thigh because I’m fucking choking you.” Ryan gasps, one last breath of air before Shea tightens his grip again and Ryan goes fucking _crazy_ , his hips jerking against Shea’s and his hands clutching at Shea’s hands, his nails digging in and creating pale crescent moons.

“Do you want to breathe, Ryan?” Ryan nods his head and Shea removes his hands, placing them on Ryan’s chest as Ryan fills his lungs back up. Shea strokes his thumbs over his jutting collarbones, “You ready for some more?” Shea’s voice is quiet and subdued, completely at odds with the intensity behind his eyes and his erection that he’s grinding into Ryan’s hip.

“I’m ready,” Ryan’s voice is a mess in the best kind of way – scratchy and breathless and so, so aroused.

“Good,” Shea’s hands drift up to Ryan’s neck and he tilts his head back but Shea doesn’t start choking him yet. “I’m going to cut off your air supply and I’m not going to let go until you’ve come, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Ryan rarely calls Shea Sir, the two of them agreeing that most of the time it’s just cheesy and pulls them out of the moment. Sometimes though, sometimes, Ryan will call him Sir and Shea will call him Baby and it feels like the universe has expanded and narrowed at the same time, having such an effect on the two of them.

Shea locks eyes with Ryan and he grips his neck and squeezes, slowly, cutting off all air to Ryan unless Shea allows him that privilege. Ryan wraps a leg around Shea’s hip and he grinds down, dirty and hard, against his body. Shea watches, fascinated by the way Ryan gets more desperate to come and for air until finally, with a bruising grip on Ryan’s neck, Ryan flings his head back against the wall and his mouth opens in a silent scream and he comes, hips erratically making movement as he milks himself against Shea.

Shea takes his hands away from Ryan completely, taking a step back to allow him to get the air he needs, Ryan’s chest heaving as he gulps it in. Once he’s had his fill Ryan gestures lazily for Shea to get closer again.

Shea crowds Ryan again, kissing all along his neck where it’s sure to bruise in the morning. That stops Shea, and he pulls back fast, “Your neck, it’s going to bruise! Everyone will know…”

“Everyone will know we had sex? I’m pretty sure they already know, Webs.” Ryan’s voice is delightfully scratchy. “Besides, they’ll probably think Zach did it.” Ryan says with an impish grin.

Shea’s great mood goes right into the trash and he grips Ryan’s wrists – no doubt those will be bruised in the morning too. “He didn’t do it to you, though. I did.” Shea glares.

Ryan looks confused, “I know you did it.”

“Say it; say what I did to you.” Shea pleads desperately.

“You choked me Shea,” Ryan says soothingly, catching on quick. “I trusted you to give me what I needed and you didn’t disappoint me – you never do. You did very well.” Shea sighs and rests his head on Ryan’s shoulder, still gripping Ryan’s wrists tightly, and his hips start to grind against Ryan’s again. “Let me help you with that, Shea.” Ryan moves his hand, still in Shea’s grasp, towards his zipper.

Ryan’s warm hands take Shea’s length out of his pants and he starts to stroke him, slowly and teasing, knowing that Shea needs more grip, more friction, _more_.

“Ryan,” Shea pants against Ryan’s cheek. “More,” Shea’s hips are making little hitching thrusts into Ryan’s hands. “Didn’t I take such good care of you, Ryan? Don’t I deserve to fuck your hand?”

“You did, you took such great care with me, Shea. You always do,” Ryan lets his hand loosen, his fingers creating a circle for Shea. “Go on, Shea.”

Shea places his hands on either side of Ryan’s head on the wall and he fucks Ryan’s hand, crazy with desire, that Ryan would just hold his hand there and let Shea fuck it. “Oh God, Ryan.” Shea pants, “I’m going to come.”

Ryan hums, tightens his grip suddenly, and Shea yells as he comes all over the front of Ryan’s shirt.

Later, they’re lying in bed, Ryan’s hand curled around one of Shea’s thighs as Shea runs his fingers through Ryan’s hair, messing with his curls. Aftercare is seriously the best thing ever, Shea thinks in a daze.

“Paul talked to me earlier,” Shea mumbles into Ryan’s cheek where they’re pressed as close as they can get.

“Mmh,” Ryan pats Shea’s thigh, wordlessly telling him to continue.

“He told me he used to do something like this – with a teammate.” Shea probably shouldn’t be telling Ryan this – Paul didn’t say he could – but something about Ryan’s cute little toes and his long eyelashes make Shea want to babble until Ryan looks at him and graces him with a smile.

Ryan is silent for a moment before he makes a curious noise.

“What?” Shea asks.

“Nothing, I just, that makes a lot of sense, is all.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Shea blinks, “I wonder who it was – do you think we know them?”

“It’s a big league, Webs.”

“I know that, Sutes.”

“Go to sleep, we can gossip about Paul Kariya’s love life in the morning,” Ryan scolds him but Shea can hear the smile in his tone.

“Sweet dreams, Sutes.”

“Sweet dreams, Webs.”


	3. 4th April 2009

Sweat drips down Ryan’s neck as he sits hunched on a bench in the locker room. The season is ending now, only a few games left to play. They have their last home game still to do – that will be hard, Ryan thinks, facing the fans when they’ve done such a piss poor job this year. No playoffs, no post season. Just months of teeing off.

Ryan hunches over and grips the back of his neck, his nails digging into his skin. He hopes to bleed, to have some physical evidence of his failures. It’s not a foreign concept to Ryan, bleeding and breaking for this sport, for his team. Broken bones and hurting heads – a staple of the game he loves.

A warm hand disentangles his fingers from his neck and clasps them safely away from Ryan. Dry hands hold sweaty fingers and the roaring in Ryan’s ears settles slightly. Ryan lifts his head and looks at Shea, who looks worn and beaten but has a look of calm on his face.

“Don’t do that,” Shea says.

“Do what?” It’s an effort for Ryan to speak, but it’s an undertaking he’ll suffer for Shea.

“Don’t hurt yourself so.”

“I need it.” Ryan tells Shea.

Shea pauses, thinking for a moment. “Then let me help you,” Shea kisses the backs of Ryan’s hands. “Let me help you hurt.”

Ryan’s breath hitches in his chest and his fingertips feel warm. “Okay,” Ryan’s hands settle more easily in Shea’s grip. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Shea’s hand runs up and down Ryan’s bare back, fingers counting the vertebrae of his spine, the skin smooth and pale. Ryan is kneeling on a cushion on the floor, his arms tied behind his back and sporting a collar and a cock ring.

“Hey there,” Shea croons at Ryan. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmhf,” Ryan’s reply is garbled because of the gag in his mouth but Shea gets the gist of it.

“I got some treats for you, because you’ve been so good for me. How does that sound, do you want some sweets?” Shea’s thumb rubs soothing circles in Ryan’s skin.

At Ryan’s dazed nod Shea reaches behind himself to grab a tray. On it there are an assortment of sweet foods, pastries and finger foods. Shea carefully undoes the gag in Ryan’s mouth and he makes a grateful noise.

“How about we start off easy,” Shea grabs a small bite sized pastry and he holds it up to Ryan’s mouth. “Open up.” Shea taps on Ryan’s lower lip.

Ryan opens his mouth and Shea places the pastry on his tongue, his fingers retreating back to Ryan’s lips. Ryan chews carefully and swallows, before showing his gratitude to Shea by licking at his fingers.

“How was that – good?” Ryan opens his mouth again and Shea chuckles, “Alright, let’s try some chocolate.”

Shea and Ryan repeat the action of hand feeding until the tray is empty, Ryan laying his head to rest on Shea’s knee as he cards his fingers through Ryan’s hair.

“That was nice, wasn’t it, Ryan.” Shea gets a sleepy hum as a reply. “What do we say when someone does something nice for us, baby?”

“Thank you,” Ryan says and it’s honey to Shea’s ears.

Ryan nuzzles at Shea’s knee, making kittenish noises.

“What’s wrong, do you want something, Ryan?” When Ryan refuses to answer, continues to only make garbled noises, leaving Shea to guess. “Do you want to come, baby, is that it?” Shea uses his foot to prod at Ryan’s cock, an angry red from being denied so long, and he makes a noise like a wounded animal. “Use your words, Ryan.”

“I want,” Ryan’s voice is scratchy from disuse. “I want to help you come.”

Shea tugs on Ryan’s hair, “That’s very sweet of you, Ryan. You’re such a sweet thing.” Shea tugs on Ryan’s hair until he sits up again. “How can I say no to such a sweet thing like you?” Shea spreads his legs and urges for Ryan to settle in between them.

Shea keeps one hand on Ryan’s head and uses the other to unzip his pants and pull his dick out. Ryan wants to lean down and wrap his lips around Shea’s gorgeous cock, wants to suffocate on his cock, but he knows better than that and he waits for Shea to decide what happens next.

“Open wide, baby.” Shea tugs at Ryan’s hair harshly and his head tips back and his mouth opens from the pain. “I’m going to fuck your face now.”

Ryan dick throbs painfully at the arousal that jolts through him and he looks up at Shea. He looks so good, above him and so calm, like Ryan being on his knees, at his feet and begging to suck his dick isn’t even affecting him. Though Ryan knows it is, knows from how hard Shea is, how fast he’s breathing and how tightly he’s holding onto Ryan’s hair.

“Ready?” Shea feeds Ryan his cock, inching his member down Ryan’s throat and settling there, like it’s where he’s meant to be. Ryan breaths carefully through his nose, disturbing Shea’s pubic hair, Ryan is inches away from his pelvis with how deep he is down his throat.

“I’m going to move now,” Shea is nothing if not a man of his word and he promptly starts to gently fuck Ryan’s face, tiny rocking motions of his hips. Ryan keeps his mouth as wide as it will go, drool escaping out of the side of his mouth around the girth of Shea’s dick. His lips are stretched so tight, trying to accommodate Shea, be the best for him, and Ryan loves this, loves Shea’s dick so far down his throat he can’t even breathe. Shea pulls almost all of the way out, a second for Ryan to get some air, before he’s thrusting back in and rocking Ryan bodily from the strength of his thrusts.

“Fuck Ryan,” Shea grunts and his grip on Ryan’s hair is punishing now. “Your mouth is so fucking wet and hot; you’re such a good hole for me.” Ryan whines, his own hips pumping in the air.

“You like that,” Shea moans, “like being a thing for me, your only purpose to serve me and make me happy.” Ryan sucks on the head of Shea’s dick, tries to convey how on board he is with that.

“Ryan,” Shea cries, “You’re so good, baby. So good.” Both his hands are on Ryan’s head now, fingers digging into his scalp as he holds his head there and fucks Ryan’s mouth. “Fuck,” Shea grunts one last time before he’s coming down Ryan’s throat and Ryan does his best to swallow all of it down but some slips out.

Shea carefully pulls himself out of Ryan’s mouth, hands on his neck and rubbing patterns over the soft skin under Ryan’s jaw, tracing his finger around the collar that sits so pretty on his neck. Ryan gets as much air in as possible, hunched over and looking down at the floor, and he sees some come on his thigh from where it must have dripped out of his mouth.

“Hey,” Shea’s voice is soft. “Do you want to come, now?”

Ryan nods wordlessly and Shea kneels down on the floor with him, one arm heavy around his shoulders with his fingers toying idly with the collar and the other on Ryan’s dick. Carefully taking the cock ring off of his aching dick, Shea jacks him off, his hand so big and perfect around Ryan’s cock. Shea mouths at his shoulders, biting and sucking marks into the skin, a luxury for them during the offseason.

Soon Ryan is coming all over Shea’s hand, slumping sideways to place all his weight against Shea. Shea lifts his hand to his own mouth and he licks up Ryan’s come, the sound of it lewd. Shea tilts Ryan’s mouth up with a finger under his chin and they kiss, open mouthed and sloppy and tasting of each other.

They sit there kissing, kneeling together on the floor, before Shea stands up and gently urges Ryan to do the same. “C’mon,” Shea takes as much of Ryan’s weight as he can and they make their way towards Shea’s guest bedroom, situated thankfully on the ground floor. “Time for cuddles,” Shea says.

“I love cuddles,” Ryan slurs, voice sounding like he just got his face fucked hard – which, he did, so.

“I know you do, baby.”

“I love you calling me baby, too.”

Shea grins and kisses Ryan’s cheek, “Baby.” Ryan giggles, completely out of it, and Shea thinks his heart might explode.

Shea lays Ryan down carefully on the bed, strips himself off before slipping in. Once they’re under the sheets they gravitate towards each other until they’re so close they’re not sure where they begin and the other ends.

This is the best part, Shea thinks fondly, not for the first time. They hardly ever get to do this – 24 hour play that is. It takes a certain amount of commitment that they’re not able to give because of their schedules. But with the Predators getting knocked out of playoff contention, something that really sucks, the bright side is that they have all the time in the world to play with each other, and even more time to just do the simple things like cook each other’s favourite meals and walk they’re dogs. “Sweet dreams, Ryan.” Shea kisses the crown of Ryan’s head.

“Sweet dreams, Shea.”


	4. 26th November 2011

They’re in Detroit, playing the red wings, and they’re losing. This will be their fourth loss in a row, Ryan thinks as he gets in position on the ice, waiting for the puck to drop. All teams have ups and downs, Ryan knows this, and the Predators are a good team – better than most in their division. They’ll make the playoffs this year, for sure, but still… These kind of losing streaks tend to get under your skin.

Their previous game had been in Minnesota and Ryan heart hurts a little when he thinks of it. It’d been good, to see his Dad. He’d also dropped in on Parise’s folks and had some sweet tea with them. Then that night... he and Zach had stayed up late talking over the phone, as they do most nights now.

The puck drops and the game keeps going. The world will keep spinning with no concern towards Ryan and his personal dilemmas - the thought makes Ryan smile wryly. Now’s not the time.

The play goes dead – icing – and Shea takes the opportunity to skate up to Ryan.

“You okay?” Shea places a gloved hand on the small of Ryan’s back. “You’re kind of spacing out… are you-” Shea’s voice goes lower, to a hushed whisper. “Are you hurt – should I go get someone?” Shea’s eyes are wide and he looks worried, looks about 2 seconds away from skating over to the nearest ref and demanding a timeout.

“I’m fine,” Ryan skates faster to get away from the pressure of Shea’s hand on his back. “Just thinking – I’ll pay more attention to the game, don’t worry.”

Shea gnaws on his lip, “Okay…”

Ryan looks back at Shea and his eyes drift down, to the C on his jersey – a little bit above the heart. When he had been named Captain Ryan had been so glad - proud that Shea had been given the title - and rightly so. Shea was born to be the Captain of this team.

He’d also thought about how it might affect _them._ If Shea would be more distant, because of the sudden power imbalance, or if he’d be harder on Ryan, more demanding. Instead Shea was just… more intense and constantly watching, making sure everyone on the team was ok, but especially Ryan. He touched Ryan more in public now and that must have been as a result of becoming the Captain. There was no one on the team to tell them no, to question if it was a good idea for the two of them to be involved. They were the veterans now, who should know better.

“Hey,” Mike Fisher called from the faceoff circle, patiently waiting for them to get into position. Shea and Ryan got into position and Ryan could feel Shea staring holes in his side, but Ryan didn’t dare to look.

 

It was 0-4 and they were trying their very hardest not to get shutout. They were going to lose, there was no doubt in Ryan’s mind, but they weren’t going to be humiliated. Trotz had told them as much in the locker-room during half time, “Get out there and don’t make this night a waste”. Ryan passed the puck down the ice to Erat and a second later he felt an awful impact as his vision went wonky and his face started to throb violently.

When the world stopped spinning and the blood quieted in his ears Ryan found he was sitting up against the boards with Fisher, who had a hand on his shoulder to help keep him upright, with a concerned look. Ryan’s eyes caught a blur behind Mike’s shoulder and when he squinted at it, focusing his shaky vision, he saw Shea going at it with Todd Bertuzzi. Oh boy.

The personal trainer is making his way over to Mike and Ryan from the Predators bench, holding onto a refs arm for balance. Ryan looks up at Mike, “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Fear is etched onto Mike’s face. The personal trainer has arrived and he kneels down on Ryan’s other side. “He doesn’t remember,” Mike tells the personal trainer the words catching in his throat.

“Ryan,” Ryan blinks hazily at the man. “Do you know where we are?”

“Detroit… We were in the middle of play, weren’t we?” Everything is so fuzzy, “What happened – why is Shea fighting?”

“Bertuzzi hit you from behind,” Mike looks like he wants to spit after saying Bertuzzi’s name. “Weber pretty much immediately stepped up to defend your honour,” Mike gives him a little smile. “Let’s get you out of here and checked out, yeah?” Mike and the personal trainer help Ryan stand up and start to escort him across and off the ice.

Before stepping into the hallway that will lead to the locker-room Ryan looks back at the ice over his shoulder. The fight had ended by now and Shea’s standing in the middle of the ice, helmet off hair askew with a bruised cheek and ruined knuckles. They lock eyes and Ryan so badly wants to go to him, reassure him that he’s okay, he’s fine. He wants to push Shea to the ice and curl up in his lap, let Shea run those bloody hands over his hair and soothe his aching head. A ref is taking Shea to the penalty box and the personal trainer is ushering Ryan further down the hallway and the moment is over.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing worse than getting injured in an away game, Ryan thinks. He’s sitting in a strange small hotel room and his head is killing him. There’s nothing to do but lie in bed and sleep but the throbbing in his temples makes it impossible to get any rest. Ryan groans and gets up from bed, clutching at his head as the room spins at the sudden movement.

Ryan leaves his room and makes his way down the hallway to the ice machine, traversing carefully with one hand to support him on the wall. Once there he fills up a cloth with ice to make a makeshift ice pack and he places it against his aching head, almost falling to his knees at the relief.

As he’s making his way back to his room a door on his right opens up and Shea steps out.

They stare at each other silently; Shea looks at the ice pack pressed to Ryan’s head with a pained expression, before Shea steps to the side and holds his door open for Ryan to enter.

Ryan does, although he’s not sure why. They’re not going to have sex - not with Ryan like this - so he’s not sure what he’s doing here, standing in Shea’s hotel room in his sleeping clothes and a scrambled brain.

Shea comes up to Ryan and he cups his head in his hands, soft and sweet. “Does it hurt?” When Shea speaks it sounds like he has gravel stuck in his throat.

“I’m okay,” Ryan lies as the pain in his head causes dark spots to flash across his eyes.

Shea closes his eyes and he presses his forehead against Ryan. His eyelashes flutter and Ryan wants to brush his fingers across his cheeks. Ryan doesn’t though, just grips onto the ice pack tighter.

Shea pulls back with a shaky breath, “Did the medic say you can sleep?”

“Yeah, I’m good to sleep.” It’s not a concussion, apparently, just a nasty hit.

“Okay,” Shea pulls Ryan over to the bed. Shea sits up against the headboard with his legs splayed and urges Ryan to lie back against him, so that they’re back-to-chest. “Let me do that for you,” Shea pulls Ryan’s fingers off of the ice pack and he presses it to Ryan’s forehead and it feels so good, the ice soothing on his hot, tired head. With his other hand Shea rubs circles into Ryan’s skin, on his thigh just below where his boxers end.

It’s nice and soon Ryan finds himself drifting off. He’s just on the edge of consciousness, aware but not quite cognitive, when he feels pressure on the back of his head. It’s Shea, Ryan realises distantly, and he’s kissing the back of his head and whispering.

“I’m so sorry,” Shea buries his face in Ryan’s neck. “You’re okay, you’re okay. You’ll get better, please please.” Shea babbles, sobbing as he pleads for Ryan’s good health.

Ryan feels tears, Shea’s, and they soak his shirt. His body rocks as Shea sobs and the motion is strangely soothing, sending Ryan into a blissful sleep.

When Ryan next wakes up he’s on his side with Shea curled up behind him, one hand resting under Ryan’s head to protect it and the other holding his hand, their fingers linked. It’s so sweet and Ryan would appreciate it, under different circumstances, someone curling around him as if they were trying to protect him from all the worlds’ dangers. But… Ryan may have been pretty out of it last night but he still remembers vividly Shea crying into his hair and asking some unknown deity to make him okay, to keep him safe.

This is so far from casual, Ryan realises, it’s fucking laughable. Ryan wonders how long they’d been like this, so intimate in such a venerable way. This is what Paul Kariya was talking about, wasn’t he. When all of a sudden you value someone else over your dedication to the game.

Ryan wishes he had realised this earlier – before. Before he’d started making arrangements with Zach and his agent and Zach’s agent to get them to Minnesota. To get them home.

Fuck.

Shea is going to hate him when he find out.


	5. 4th July 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this the chapter where the dubcon comes into play so.... just FYI.

Shea hates surprises.

As a kid he always hated when his grandparents would throw surprise birthdays and he would be forced to sit still, even though he didn’t even want to be there. Shea hated when girlfriends would suddenly dump him with no warning and with no explanation. Shea hated when his parents divorced when he was 15 and he had to suddenly choose who to love more.

Control is good, Shea likes control. Being in control, having control, the ability to step back, take time and shift the situation so it suits everyone.

Shea hates surprises.

 

* * *

 

On an unbearable hot day in July Ryan Suter signs with the Minnesota Wilds for 13 years at $98 million.

Shea stands in his wrecked kitchen with his hands white knuckled on the granite counters and his head hung low. The world started to spin when he read the news - read from a shitty notification on his phone from some sports blog because Ryan didn’t have the guts to fucking tell him himself, the coward.

It hurts, Shea thinks squeezing his eyes shut when the bright lights of his kitchen gets to be too much. He was so fucking sure – so confident – that Ryan was just doing signing tactics, trying to drive his price up, that he would still be a Nashville Predator for years to come – that they would be.

“Fuck,” Shea whispers. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK.” Shea slams his hands down onto the counters, sending a jarring ache racing up through his palms all the way to his elbows.

Behind him, Shea hears the front door open. He waits - doesn’t bother turning because he knows who it is – he only trusts, trusted, one person enough to give them a key to his house.

Shea’s not sure what he expected Ryan to say but, “Where’s Dug?” wasn’t it.

Shea turns and leans back against the counter heavily, his gaze drawn immediately to Ryan who stands there looking calm which pisses Shea the fuck off. Ryan should at least have the decency to look worried, anxious - fucking something. He’s just made a huge life changing decision and he looks like he doesn’t even regret it a little which hurts so goddamn bad. Shea clenches his fists.

“He went into the backyard when I started breaking things.” Shea feels bad, didn’t mean to scare Dug – he’ll buy Dug a bunch of new toys to make up for it, smother Dug in love. That always works when Dug is angry at Shea – for leaving or not buying his favourite food or not going on enough walks. Making amends with Dug is easy.

“I’m guessing you heard?” Ryan looks at the carnage, at the broken glass and the turned over furniture. He doesn’t look very impressed.

“Of course I fucking heard,” Shea spits out. “Every goddamn wannabe sports journalist is talking about it. Suter and Parise going home to save the Wilds from mediocracy. Real noble of you.” Shea laughs, a nasty cruel thing, “You’re not even _from_ Minnesota, it makes no fucking sense.”

Ryan sighs deeply, “Shea-”

“What the fuck are you doing here Ryan?” Shea cuts him off angrily. “Obviously, it wasn’t to give me some warning that you’re leaving and never looking back, so what are you here for, huh?” Shea pushes himself away from the counter, approaches Ryan slowly, sidestepping all the broken glass on the floor. “Was it to say goodbye?” Shea utters the words softly, now standing close to Ryan, as close as lovers. “Or maybe one last hurrah – one for the road?” Shea places his hands on Ryan’s hips and pulls them close, hip to hip and chest to chest.

Ryan leans into Shea’s hold even though his voice stays cold, “I’m a UFA Shea, none of what I’ve done is wrong.” Ryan continues, “You can’t be angry at me for signing with another team.”

This is really happening - Ryan is really going to leave, Shea thinks with panic. “When did you decide,” Shea grits out through his teeth, “when did you start scheming with Parise about leaving?”

“We weren’t scheming,” Ryan glares, “it wasn’t like that.”

Shea grinds his teeth, “When. When did you start talking?”

Ryan is silent for a minute and Shea knows he’s not going to like what the answer is. “Since the beginning of last season.” Shea closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, smells Ryan’s shampoo and chocolate. He must have stopped by a gas station on the way here – Ryan always stress eats, sits in his hotel room in the dark on bad nights and eats his favourite sweets from his childhood.

Ryan continues, “Zach wanted to go home and he asked me to help him – he didn’t pressure me, he offered me something and I took it.”

“I can believe that, you’re very good at taking.” Shea says, lashing out.

Ryan looks like he wants to punch Shea in the face and Shea almost wants him too - needs to get all this energy out. Shea looks in Ryan’s eye and he sees something – regret?

Shea steps away and takes his shirt off and throws it on the floor, “Let’s do this. C’mon,” Shea pushes his trousers off.

“Fine,” Ryan bites out as he strips himself down quickly.

Shea grips his upper arm tightly and pulls him harshly up the stairs and down the hallway until they reach Shea’s bedroom. Shea pushes Ryan down on the bed and follows him down, pressing him down into the bedding and biting sharply at his mouth. Usually Ryan would gasp in shock, open his mouth impossibly wider for Shea, give himself over to Shea’s attentions with a moan.

He does none of that, doesn’t react at all. Shea doubles down and licks into Ryan’s mouth, his hands pulling down Ryan’s underwear and tossing them aside.

“What do you want?” Shea pulls his own underwear off, “What do you need?”

Ryan shrugs, “I don’t care.” Ryan’s tone in disinterested, “It’s all the same to me.”

Shea holds himself up above Ryan and looks down at him, looks at his blank eyes and his lax body, no emotions on his face. Usually, Ryan has such an expressive body, telling Shea what he needs to know when Ryan himself is reluctant to speak. Shea right now has no fucking clue where to go from here.

“What do you need?” Shea repeats, stressing the word ‘need’.

“I don’t _need_ anything.” Ryan says but what Shea hears is _I don’t need you._

Shea feels something ugly bubble up inside of him, his stomach tightens and his face feels like stone. “I see,” Shea mutters bitterly. “I see.”

Ryan opens his mouth again but Shea won’t give him the opportunity. Shea backhands Ryan across the face and the force of it must shock him because Ryan’s mouth is still open but no words come out.

“I think you’ve said enough,” Shea grabs Ryan roughly by his chin and angles his head to look up at Shea. “Time I put your mouth to a better use I think.” Shea drags Ryan off the bed so that he’s kneeling down on the floor at Shea feet, which is a sight he will sorely miss in the coming seasons. “Go ahead,” Shea tells Ryan.

Ryan could say no, he could spit at Shea and get off his knees and curse him. He could walk away but he doesn’t. Instead he takes in Shea’s dick all the way down, just as good as the first time they did this all those years ago.

Shea grunts and tangles his fingers in Ryan’s hair, “That’s what I thought – no way a slut like you can say no to getting choked on a dick.” Shea has been hard since he started stripping downstairs but he had noticed Ryan had remained stubbornly flaccid throughout.

Ryan is on his knees sucking Shea off and getting verbally degraded by him and he’s as hard as a fucking rock, making gurgling noises as he chokes himself on Shea’s dick and tears stream out of his eyes. Yeah, he fucking wants this, there’s no doubt about it. Shea is going to give it to Ryan so fucking good afterwards he’ll phone up Parise and tell him _sorry but Minnesota just doesn’t have what I need._

Shea pulls Ryan off by his hair, “I think you’ve had enough.” Ryan blushes crimson and nods his head. Shea lifts him up of the floor and pushes him back to lie on the bed. Ryan relaxes into the bed, his arms lying by his side and his legs spreading wide to accommodate Shea slipping in between them.

“You’re so easy Ryan,” Shea presses his lubed up fingers to Ryan’s hole. “Always so, so easy for me, aren’t you?” Shea starts easy, thrusting one finger in and out of Ryan slowly, causing Ryan’s toes to curl into the bedding.

“Mmh,” Ryan agrees. He always gets so lazy when Shea starts to do this, just lies back and lets Shea take care of him. “More.”

Shea skips over the first two fingers and goes straight to three, causing Ryan to hiss at the burn and stretch. Shea doesn’t spend too much time fingering Ryan before he’s pulling his fingers out and slicking his cock to line it up against Ryan’s hole.

Shea eases in slowly, inch by inch, and gets the pleasure of watching Ryan’s face shift as he feels more and more full. “Ah,” Ryan sighs and he goes boneless, sinking further and further into the bed, getting comfortable as Shea holds his legs at the knees and keeps them spread open.

Shea starts to thrust into Ryan who makes pleased noises, breathing shallowly. Shea loves this, loves taking care of Ryan’s needs. This is what Ryan and Shea were made for – to be here, completing each other.

Except… Ryan doesn’t need this – doesn’t need Shea - does he? He said it himself, and he’s leaving Nashville, leaving Shea and the team that they have lovingly created together. And for what - to go to fucking Minnesota with his best friend, Zach Parise? Ryan said they’d been talking since last year about this, which means that Ryan was betraying him this entire goddamn time.

Shea’s chest is tight and he feels that ugly nasty thing come back to life inside of his stomach. Shea grips Ryan’s legs tighter, bruising, and he pushes until Ryan is bent in half and he gives it to him hard, thrusting at a fast and harsh pace. Ryan gasps at the sudden intensity, obviously expecting a sweet loving pace for their last fuck.

Shea keeps the pace up and he lays one hand against Ryan’s cheek as he uses the other to hold himself up, Ryan’s legs wrapped tight around Shea’s waist. “You’re so beautiful…” Shea whispers in awe as he strokes along Ryan’s face. “I never told you enough, but you are so, so beautiful.”

“Shea,” Ryan starts, in shock, but Shea can’t – he just, he just can’t right now. The hand on Ryan’s face goes to his neck and he grips him, squeezing with one hand to limit the intake of air Ryan is getting. Ryan’s eyes roll back in his head and his mouth gasps open but his hands come up to grip at Shea’s, scratching the back of his hand as he tries to get more air, does his best to remove Shea’s grip from his neck. Shea fucks Ryan harder and he chokes him more and he feels Ryan’s dick leak profusely onto both of their stomachs, so at odds with the nails digging into Shea’s wrist and the terrified look in Ryan’s eyes.

Shea stops choking Ryan and he take Ryan’s dick in hand and he jacks him off, sliding his hand over the heated flesh at a punishing pace. Ryan has barely got his breath back when he comes, yelling hoarsely into the suddenly tense air. Shea slides out of Ryan, his own dick having gone flaccid around the same time as he stopped choking Ryan.

Ryan lies on the bed, panting harshly, with a hand touching along his neck where Shea was just gripping him, his neck sporting a harsh red. Shea breathes – in and out, in and out – when Ryan sit up, looks at Shea who won’t look back at him, and gets up to go downstairs and get his clothes off the kitchen floor.

“Wait,” Shea’s voice is wrecked – it sounds like he was the one who was just choking. “Where – ah, where are you going?”

Ryan gives Shea a cold look, “I’m leaving.”

“No, no. You can’t leave, we still need-”

Ryan shakes his head and swiftly leaves the room.

 _Aftercare_ , Shea thinks, they didn’t do aftercare.

Shea rushes out of the room and down the stair but by the time he gets there he’s greeted by the slam of the front door closing. Shea flinches, closes his eyes and falls back against the nearest wall. He buries his face in his hands and he sinks to the floor. “Fuck.” Shea utters but only silence greets him back.

Shea sits there, his stomach twisting and turning, when he feels a sudden strong urge to puke. Shea shakily gets to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom, slipping on the stairs on the way up. He has to crawl part of the way there but he makes it in time to puke into the toilet.

Shea shivers as he gags into the toilet, his hands and his back covered in sweat as he retches. He can imagine what he looks like, naked and curled up around a toilet on the floor puking. No wonder Ryan left him.

“Oh God,” Shea starts crying, rests his head against the cool porcelain. “What have I done…?” He let his anger take control and he hurt Ryan. They’ve done in before, the two of them enjoying it immensely, but this time was different. Ryan didn’t want it, he came but he didn’t want it, Shea knows.

Shea’s head feels like it’s on fire, like all of his veins are electric. His brain is running a mile a minute thinking about Ryan and how he’s not sure if he’s okay or not, if he’s on the side of the road somewhere in this exact position too, all because Shea didn’t take proper care of him. Because Shea was too angry with jealousy to treat him right.

Shea sniffs, spit into the toilet one last time and gets back on his feet. He goes into his bedroom, hunched over and clutching his arms, shaking, to grab his phone and send a text to Ryan.

 **Im sorry pls get some aftercare**  
phone Parise or smth   
im srry I love you

Now that it’s all over Shea sees no reason to hold any of his cards to his chest – no point pretending he’s not completely and totally fucking crazy for Ryan Suter.

Not that any of it matters – Shea will be lucky if Ryan doesn’t publicly blast him to the media. He’d deserve it - Shea won’t even deny it, if Ryan does decide to go down that route.

Shea sits on his bedroom floor with his back resting against his bed as he scrolls down his contacts. He presses his phone to his ear and he waits.

“Hello?” Paul Kariya asks as he picks up the phone.

“Paul,” Shea croaks into the phone.

“Shea, what’s wrong – what happened, is someone hurt?” Shea is surprised Paul has to even ask but, he supposes he is retired now, he isn’t required to keep track of what’s going on in his old teams.

“Ryan signed with the Wild.”

It’s silent on the other end but Shea knows Paul is still there, knows Paul is choosing his next words carefully.

“I see,” Paul finally says. “I’m sorry, Shea. I – I know the two of you were… close.”

Shea chuckles humorously, “ _Close._ I suppose that’s one way to put it.” Shea drags a hand down his face heavily, “Not anymore.”

“Just because you’re not on the same team anymore doesn’t mean you can’t still be together,” Paul pauses. “Other couples in the league have such arrangements and they play against each other fine.”

“Like you and your ex-teammate?” Shea probes but Paul refuses to answer. “Sorry. I think it’s too late for that anyway, I…” Shea bites his lip.

“You?” Paul asks warily, “What did you do, Shea?”

“I screwed it all up, Paul.” Shea bring his knees up to his chest and rests his forehead against them. “What I did – Ryan hates me now.” Shea starts to cry again, “I love him and he _hates_ me.”

Paul makes soothing noises over the phone, “It’s alright Shea, it’ll be okay.”

“No, no it won’t.” Shea says with certainty. “How did you know? Back in 2006, you could tell it would go bad – that _we_ would go bad.”

“I didn’t predict it – I didn’t want this to happen – I just, I’ve been there Shea. These things rarely end well.” Paul sounds so sad.

“I wanted to lift the cup with him.” Shea’s voice breaks as he thinks about all the late night talks the two of them had, all the discussions of how much they wanted to win – wanted to win _together_. Shea’s not sure if there’s even a point to winning anymore, if he’s not going to hand it over to Ryan.

“I did too,” Paul says, and Shea knows he’s not talking about Ryan. “I did too.”


	6. 28th January 2017

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Thanks to everyone who commented, I love you.

The NHL All-Star events are always a guaranteed good time, Ryan thinks. He gets to see everyone in a (relatively) non-competitive environment, relax and eat good food. The fact that Shea is also here – well, they don’t have to talk to each other. Or, that was Ryan’s plan. Seems Shea has other ideas because he’s standing outside Ryan’s hotel room waiting for him when he first arrives the day before the event starts.

“Uhm,” Shea scratches at his beard, in full effect even though it’s only half way through the season. Ryan kind of likes it, to his surprise. “Hi?”

They look at each other from across the hallway before Ryan decides fuck it and unlocks the door to let Shea in. Ryan makes a beeline for the minibar and grabs one of the expensive water bottles – the NHL can at least pay for it if they’re putting him through this emotional torture.

“You look… good,” Shea looks like he’s blushing under his beard, his eyes bright with anxiety and embarrassment. “Minnesota is treating you well.” Shea sounds like he’s forcing the words out.

“Thanks, you look good too.” Ryan isn’t lying, Shea does - he looks healthy and happy – happier than Ryan was expecting someone on the Canadiens looking, frankly. He’s grown his hair out and it looks soft and he must be working out more because his biceps are stretching the fabric of his shirt nicely.

“I just,” Shea coughs, “I wanted to come here and apologise to you – in person – before the event starts.”

It’s a nice effort, and Ryan does appreciate it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy for Shea. “Apologise for what?”

“For… For the way things ended – the way I treated you, I uh, I really regret how everything went down. I really,” Shea looks at Ryan and his eyes tell him how much he truly feels guilty over what happened. “I really am sorry, Ryan. I got angry at you for choosing something I didn’t want you to choose – and the way I showed that anger was just not on. So, I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, although I’ll understand if you can’t…”

Ryan fiddles with the bottle in his hand, “Thank you for apologising… I suppose I should also, uhm, apologise for how everything went down too… The way I left wasn’t very kind.” Ryan looks up at Shea, “I should have told you I was thinking of leaving, or told you before I told the press. I’m sorry, Shea.”

“Forgive and forget?” Shea gives Ryan a tentative smile.

Ryan smiles back. “How about forgive and move on?” Ryan never did like the phrase ‘forgive and forget’.

“Agreed,” Shea looks like a weight has lifted off of his chest, his shoulders slump in relief and his smile goes blinding. “Well… I should probably leave you to get settled then. Maybe I’ll see you around?” Shea asks hopefully.

“Sure,” Ryan agrees. “We can catch up later.”

 

* * *

 

“ _So, what, you forgave him – just like that?_ ” Zach asks, sounding sceptical over the phone.

Zach and Ryan talk every day – during the season, post-season and off-season – even during the All-Star break. As soon as Shea had left Ryan had picked up his phone and called Zach, needing to tell _someone_ about what had just transpired. Yeah, Ryan and Zach are kind of co-dependent but it works for them.

“Yeah, I did. It’s been so long Zach,” Ryan sighs. “What’s the point in holding a grudge nowadays – it just wastes energy.”

“ _Forgiving and letting go of bad emotions is all well and good, Ryan_.” Zach agrees, “ _But do I need to remind you how completely wrecked you were after you broke up with Shea?_ ”

“No, I don’t need you to remind me,” Ryan says.

“ _You called me crying, Ryan!_ ” Zach says heatedly. “ _I had to talk you through a panic attack. It’s a day that keeps me up at night.”_

“I know,” Ryan reassures Zach. “Thank you for that, I can’t tell you how much you mean to me Zach.” Zach huffs, indignant that Ryan feels the need to thank him for being a good friend. “But I promise that won’t happen again.”

“ _How do you know that?_ ”

“Because I’m not going to sleep with Shea again – we’re just going to be friendly co-workers. And – even if we did decide to go down that route again – we’re completely different people now. Much older and wiser.”

“ _The jury’s still out on that one.”_ Zach mutters. “ _Well…_ ” Zach continues hesitantly, “ _As long as you know what you’re doing, Ryan_.”

“I do,” Ryan says, trying to convince himself too.

 

* * *

 

 

The thing is, it’s been years. Years of silence and one sided conversations – texts sent to congratulate milestones that don’t get a reply.

Ryan had been shaken up, that day he had stumbled out of Shea’s house with a bruised throat and an aching heart, but time heals all wounds (and when it doesn’t, getting an apology sure helps the healing process). But all these years Ryan has done some thinking, he’s looked back on their years together, and he’s realised something.

They had done it all wrong.

Now, Ryan is lying in his bed – alone - and Shea presumably is too.

Ryan turns over in bed, thinks of hot sticky days in Nashville. Thinks of glasses filled with lemonade and Shea laughing loud and bright. Thinks of Dug’s fur as he scratches behind his ears while Shea cooks for the two of them. Thinks of curtains fluttering from the wind as they lie in bed, hands touching, talking about what they were going to do the next day.

Why can’t they have that again? Or, better yet, something more. Ryan wasn’t joking with Zach when he said he’s older and wiser – he’s not that kid anymore, scared of commitment. Ryan wants something more and maybe, just maybe, Shea does too.

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the All-Star Weekend Shea and Ryan spend time together – chatting, laughing and quietly chirping those around them – it feels just like old times.

Shea is giggling, trying to keep his voice down, and Ryan kind of feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to be around Shea. Shea’s eyes are crinkled with laughter and he’s biting his lip and he looks so happy to just be sitting around with Ryan, shooting the shit.

“Hey,” Ryan says, kind of breathlessly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Shea blinks at him and snorts, “Very funny.” Shea gestures around at the filled arena, chanting for more.

Ryan laughs lightly, “Yeah, I guess.” Even though he wasn’t joking, not really.

 

That night they get dinner together – when in L.A. after all – just the two of them. They’re not dressed to the nines or anything, the two of them in smart casual clothes. Ryan can’t stop looking at Shea eat though, his shoulders moving under his dress shirt, the muscles shifting as he enjoys his meal. Every now and then Shea will look up at Ryan from under his eyelashes, watching him watch him. It’s intoxicating and Ryan can’t for the life of him remember what he ate.

After dinner they take their shoes off and roll up their trousers to take a walk along a nearby beach. It’s really nice and Ryan understands why most players have the California trio listed as potential teams for their no move contracts.

As they walk their hands brush where they’re hanging by their sides and Ryan realises this is their first date – or, at least, it feels like a date. Ryan knows they said they’d be friends but, to be honest, Ryan doesn’t want that anymore.

Ryan wants fancy dinners and to play footsie under the table and moonlit walks on beaches and to hold hands.

Ryan grabs Shea hands and they stop, turning to look at each other. The ocean is in their ears and their toes are curled in the sand and it’s the perfect moment for Ryan to lean up and he kiss Shea. It’s soft and sweet and slow. It feels like a kiss that should signify an end but Ryan knows this one signals a new beginning.

They pull away from each other and smile, a small giddy thing.

“Can we… Can we try again?” Ryan asks.

Shea lifts their joined hands and kisses Ryan’s knuckles. “Nothing would make me happier.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Main blog](https://nelliphant.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Writing blog](https://selaanne.tumblr.com/)


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